“Hate me,” he ordered desperately. His voice was rough even to his own ears. The demand seemed to jar her from the softness in her gaze. Good.
“Don’t you think I tried?” she exclaimed, finally wrenching herself back, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She pinned himwith a glare, her eyes gleaming with emotion he didn’t dare name. “I tried to hate you. I wanted to hate you.”
He believed her. “Then do it. Hate me,” he begged, and though he was relieved she had put distance between them, he was a hypocrite because he couldn’t help but lean into her.
“I hate you,” she whispered with no conviction. He didn’t believe her.
Westley rested his forehead gently on hers, a soft, “Hate me,” once more on his lips.
She placed her hands over his heart. “I can’t.”
Their mouths were a breath apart as Westley’s lips pulsed, aching to close the distance.
He dared to hope, saying, “If you let me kiss you right now, I will never stop. I will drown before I let you go.” When she didn’t pull away—in fact, her body arched into his—all sense of conviction shattered. No logic or reason could stop him now. He was no match for the hold she had on him.
“Don’t stab me,” he whispered against her lips.
He felt the ghost of her smile before he captured her mouth with his.
Shesurrendered,grippinghisshirt to pull him closer as energy pulsed between them—his end of the bond was euphoric, their magic dancing, celebrating.
The kiss was slow. It was a sweet relief, a moment of pure bliss. Her lips were strong and unwavering. They fit perfectly against his.
He ached for more and dragged his tongue across the seam of her mouth, requesting access. She opened for him, her sweet taste flooding his senses. They devoured each other.
His hands roamed the curves of her body, needing to hold her, to take her, to protect her. She tried to push him against the rock, but he flipped them around to press her back against the stone, revelling in the hitch of her breath as he leaned into her, his mouth never leaving hers.
Westley tilted her head to the side, wanting every angle of her, every inch of her kiss he could touch. He explored her taste, her tongue. He was greedy, taking everything she gave him but still wanting more and more.
She pressed herself into him, their breaths quickening as the vigour of their embrace intensified. The wind whipped around them, tugging strands of hair loose from Solveig’s braids.
Westley tucked an escaped lock behind her ear, grazing the rounded tip. His hand trailed down her neck to her collarbone, relishing the way her skin pebbled as she shuddered. Her teeth grazed his lips, nipping softly and drawing a soft groan of pleasure from him.
She was fervent, urging him on, wrapping her legs around his waist as his hand trailed up the bare skin of her thighs. His soul leapt with triumph as he claimed her mouth—she was his and he was hers.
They were unending.
His hand neared the top of her thigh as he angled her head the other way, her fingers tangled in his hair. Her heat came in contact with his painfully hard cock, a strangled sound of desire leaving him, and he nearly lost control.
With what little sense he had left, he knew he couldn’t let this continue.
“Solveig,” he groaned into her, pulling his mouth away.
Don’t you dare stop. Her lust-filled voice permeated his mental shield, overtaking his senses as he gripped her thighs harder, leaving fingerprint bruises. It took every ounce of strength he had not to bury himself inside her.
I have to stop,he said, barely able to think the words.
Why?she asked, moving her hands across the width of his shoulders, grasping his arms as he held her tighter.
Their lips found each other again.
Because I don’t want sand to get into places sand should not be.
She wrenched her mouth from his, laughing into him. They shared the same breath and their chests heaved into each other. The beating of their hearts synced. Did she notice?
How could she not see what was right in front of her? Her mate. He willed her to see it in the way their hearts beat as one, their magicentwined. If she figured it out on her own, if she accepted their bond without any pressure from him then maybe ...
West . . .
